


What Are We Doing Here?

by angstics



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: 4x12 - Freeform, Angst, Canon Divergence from 4x12, Gen, based on the shot in the 412 promo when alice kisses q, past qualice, q finally yelling!!!!, q rejects alice, queliot is only mentioned, references to 3x05 and 4x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstics/pseuds/angstics
Summary: “I don’t fucking matter, but Julia? Eliot?” His voice cracked. He hadn’t spoken their names ever since the Monster had taken Julia. “They deserve to live, to survive.”Or: Quentin finally gets to yell about his frustrations after Alice kisses him (written before 4x12 airs)





	What Are We Doing Here?

**Author's Note:**

> Is it really so impossible to know what we’re doing here?
> 
> Or would you rather find synthetic happiness in another blissful drink?
> 
> Such a silly thing for such little things to think
> 
> \- PALE BLUE DOT by SEA IN THE SKY

Alice kissed him. They were alone in the penthouse, waiting for the others to locate the Monster and his sister, and Alice was kissing him.

Quentin’s lips stayed slack. He wanted to pull away, needed to, had to. But the numbness he felt was so soul-crushing, so tiring. He’d never felt so off, like he was living a life someone else owned. As if he was possessing someone who loved Alice, someone who studied for his Magical studies day-in day-out, someone who drank until his head hurt just to see his friends laugh.

So he stayed still until the numbness twisted into something that finally made him feel something other than loneliness. Nausea quickly overtook his senses. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the sickness.

Quentin turned his head to the side to stop the kiss. He muttered, unable to speak properly without his stomach rolling 90 degrees south, “No, no, no.”

“Q?” Alice said, cupping his cheek with one hand. Quentin trained his eyes on the window overlooking New York. The blue sky filled his vision, reminding him of Brakebills South and Whitespire and the cottage. His eyes closed, and he leaned back, sighing.

“Why would you do that?” He moved his head away from her touch. It felt like nothing to him.

“Q-” she huffed. When she spoke again, her voice shook, “I loved you, Quentin. And you loved me.”

Quentin could barely breathe. This is all so utterly wrong, but he’d never felt so happy to have his chest twisting and his temple beating to the tune of his heart.

It was something. But something that came from the singular thing Quentin couldn’t deal with right now.

Alice was still talking when he tuned back in to what she was saying. “We loved each other. Why can’t we…” He looked blankly at her, knowing exactly what she was going to say next. “Why can’t we be in love again?”

He _knew_  what she was going to say, because he’d said something so similar so long ago, but he couldn’t help rubbing his hands all over his face and through his short - _too short_ \- hair. He didn’t want to explain this.

Alice always had been smarter, braver, kinder than he was. What led him to the point in which he was talking down on the most clever person he knew? _Fifty years,_ his thoughts rebuked.

He opened his eyes. The blue sky brought too many memories that didn’t belong in his dark, unruly life, so he opted to look at the couch in front of them instead. “Alice,” his voice held so much contempt, he felt guilty. She shifted towards him, wringing her hands in hope and self-consciousness. He softened his voice. He stilled cared for her as a friend. “When was the last time we’d been happy together?”

The question made Alice pause from her shuffling. He glanced at her. Her mouth was agape, her eyes searching Quentin for an answer.

“I don’t know,” she choked out, beaten. He finally faced her, lips straight and eyes relaxed.

“Brakebills South.”

Alice took a second. _You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me_ , past Alice had told him. Quentin knew she would nod, and, eventually, she did.

The void was coming back in full force now that he knew exactly what to say to end anything Alice thought they could salvage. Quentin continued, tired, “I’ve felt happiness so much fuller. I loved you, but not at the capacity you deserved. We could have love bigger than ourselves, Alice.” His heart ached, knowing that he’d lost that chance.

He massaged his lips with his index finger. Eliot would roll his eyes at how cheesy and sincere Quentin was. But Quentin also knew that he would smile _that_ smile - that impossibly light, impossibly soft one he reserved to those he loved. Eliot also lived those years and _knew_ , even if he didn’t want him in this lifetime. He closed his eyes. _Except... that day in the park._

For the second time that hour, he felt something. This time, the feeling was as clear as day: pure, unbridled anger. He clenched his jaw, and Alice noticed. “I’m sorry, Q. I didn’t mean to hur-”

He stood up quickly, and moved away just as fast. _What was he doing here?_ He flung his hands in the air as he paused in front of Alice. He repeated, aloud, “What are we doing here? What’s the point to all of this?”

Alice looked alarmed, with her raised eyebrows and wide eyes; more so than when Quentin pulled away from her kiss. “What?”

“The Monster and his sister are out there… reeking havoc and killing people, all while inhabiting some of the only people I’ve ever loved. They’re trapped in their own minds! How horrible is that, Alice? Compared that, how does this matter?” He was pacing, becoming frantic. He rubbed his hair until it became a tussled mess, “I don’t fucking matter, but Julia? Eliot?” His voice cracked. He hadn’t spoken their names ever since the Monster had taken Julia. “They deserve to live, to survive.”

“Q, calm down,” Alice got up.

He stepped away from her. “I’ve been calm this whole fucking time!” He shouted, his voice reverberating throughout the apartment. Adrenaline rushed through his veins and he loved it. He didn’t want to feel numb anymore. The pitch of Quentin’s voice was audibly higher as he said, “We deserve to be happy. Why aren’t we allowed to be happy?” _Why did Eliot not want them to be happy?_

Energy left his body in a rush, but he still had that feeling of bitter annoyance one gets after venting about something they’d held onto for so long. These feelings - these awful, human feelings - gave his heart the want to do something brave. The time to end his sulking and emptiness was long overdue. Getting Eliot and Julia back was important; it was bigger than him, bigger than his and Alice’s relationship.

This was for love.

**Author's Note:**

> i?? hope?? you?? enjoyed?? this?? im new to fanfic writing, and have never written for the magicians?? comments, bookmarks, and kudos are so greatly appreciated
> 
> @angstics on tumblr | @braveque tm sideblog on tumblr


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